Belong
by jareaufan
Summary: Santana Lopez always felt alone. The fact that people she hooked up with started dropping dead didn't help. Then she met Bo.


**There is some mature language in this fic, but if you watch Lost Girl...I'm assuming you're okay with it.**

Santana Lopez was arguably the most popular girl at her high school; she had a steady stream of lovers, served as Head Cheerleader for a decent chunk of time, was a stand-out member of the Glee Club, and still managed to get decent grades. She then went on to perform in a few theatre productions, become the Student Director of the Office of Multicultural Affairs, a star member of an award-winning acappella group, award-winning member of the model UN, and the President of the Student Government Association at her college. However, despite all of her accomplishments, she always felt alone.

If you asked her, she would readily admit that up until her senior year of high school, the reason why she felt alone was because she was hiding in the closet – trying to deny the fact that she was a lesbian by dating (and usually sleeping with) several guys a year. She would also readily admit that during senior year, she felt a little less alone after she was forced out of the closet and she finally started to officially date her best-friend Brittany after years of secretive sex and make-out sessions.

What she would not readily admit as a reason was that during college, everything had changed. She broke up with Brittany her Sophomore year after she found her in bed with the guy who was supposed to just be her voice coach. It turned out that it had not been a one-time thing, they had been dating behind Santana's back for months, and it broke her heart to have to end things with the girl she thought she would spend the rest of her life with.

After the Brittany debacle, Santana withdrew and just went about her day-to-day tasks. She did her homework, completed all of the duties of her OMA and SGA jobs, and competed with her acappella and model UN groups. She never auditioned for another theatre production, and she never did anything she didn't have to.

Then along came her senior year. It was only a month before graduation when she received a random phonecall from Brittany that consisted mostly of screams and calls for help.

"Brittany? Brittany?" She called out, worried beyond belief. She may not have spoken to her blonde ex in years, but she could never say that she had no care left for the girl.

"San? It's me. There's something wrong with Brandon. I'm in the recital hall." Brittany choked out before the line went dead.

Living in a dorm that was fairly close to the recital hall, Santana simply grabbed her keys and ran over to the building before even considering calling campus police. When she arrived, she followed the screams and sounds of struggle to find Brandon – the same man who she had found in bed with Brittany – standing over Brittany with what looked to be a broken ballet bar. Santana sprung into action and grabbed a nearby mic stand, she then swung it as hard as she could. The blow knocked Brandon out and she was able to bring Brittany to safety before calling campus police.

Sadly, the encounter did not lead to a resurrection of Brittany and Santana's romantic relationship, but their friendship was partially mended. As a result, during a bout of catching up, Brittany found out about Santana's brooding phase and she encouraged the Latina to re-enter the dating game.

After graduation, Santana got a job as a paralegal at a busy law firm in order to save up more money for law school. After a particularly tough week at work, she ended up at a local bar where she met a woman who she really ended up hitting it off with. The woman said her name was Linda, and Santana extended an invitation back to her apartment.

As soon as Santana and Linda entered the former's apartment – the clothes came off. Santana honestly thought they were moving a little too fast, but she didn't argue as she led Linda to her bed, pushed the red-head back onto the mattress and leaned in to what was sure to become a make-out session leading to sex. As soon as her lips touched Linda's she felt an uncontrollable urge to deepen the kiss, which she did until she felt the body under her go limp.

At first she thought it was a joke, some sort of cruel prank. But Linda wasn't breathing.

Santana called 911 right away. The responding paramedics checked Linda's vitals as the Latina stood shell-shocked in the corner, wearing nothing but her undergarments and a bathrobe that she had hastily thrown on while on the phone with the dispatcher. One of the paramedics looked over at the other, said something she couldn't quite make out, then made his way over to Santana.

She definitely heard him when he informed her that he would have to call the police and the coroner's office.

The police questioned Santana back at the station, bringing up her rather pitiful juvenile record. She thought it was supposed to be sealed, and any other day she would have argued that fact, but instead she sat back in the cold metal seat and answered all of the officer's questions in a blank voice.

Around 2am, she returned to her apartment and immediately called her father. He was always up at late hours of the night due to his job as Head of some department at the Lima, Ohio hospital. Santana never cared to learn exactly what he did, but she still loved the man, and if anybody could calm her nerves it would be David Lopez. After her mother left when she was seventeen, they had grown fairly close seeing as they were the only immediate family each other had left.

"Dad…I…I think I killed someone." She stuttered out through a sudden bout of tears as soon as her father answered the phone.

David's tone didn't falter one bit. "Santana, _mija_. Calm down. What did you just say?"

Santana wiped her eyes and nose on tissue and composed herself to a decent degree. "I brought a girl back from the bar. We were kissing, and then she stopped. I looked down and she was dead." She started to cry again. "She was dead! I killed her!"

David was silent, long enough that Santana started to think that he had hung up on her. "Santana, I'm sure you didn't do anything. She probably had a heart condition. It's not unheard of."

"That's what the coroner said. Something about excitement, it could have triggered a heart attack." Santana offered, more to reassure herself that it wasn't her fault.

"Do you need me to come down there to New York? I will be right there if you need me." David questioned, his voice full of concern.

Santana assured him that she would be fine, and hung up the phone after promising that she would call back if she did end up needing him.

She found out a few days later that the autopsy on Linda was inconclusive. The coroner's office found no signs of a heart condition, any other diseases, or foul play. They ended up ruling it as Sudden Adult Death Syndrome, which Santana thought was a complete cop-out – a classy way of saying that they gave up trying to figure out the real reason, her.

After the Linda incident, Santana quit her job and returned to her brooding phase. It was a good few months before Brittany called to break her out of it. Apparently she had spoken to David in the grocery store when she returned to Lima to visit her parents and heard "the awful news." Santana could never say no to her first real love, and she had to oblige when she insisted that Santana "get back out there and start living again."

Santana managed to finagle her boss and get her job back, and her first order of business was to pick-up the division's usual coffee order from Starbucks.

"You left us high and dry Lopez. The least you can do is get me a fucking latte."

In a strange way, being sent on the coffee run was a blessing in disguise. After ordering the usual ten drinks, the barista informed the Latina that the credit card system was down. Digging in her wallet, she found that she didn't have even close to the amount of cash needed, and it was time to turn on the old Santana charm. She grabbed the teenage boy's hand and gave him a small wink and a flirty laugh.

"I'm kind of out of cash right now…" She started.

"No problem, it's on the house. Anything for you." The boy replied almost immediately, cutting her off and handing her the coffee.

_I know I'm hot, but that was way too easy_. Santana thought as she carried the tray back to the office. _But so was getting…Linda…back to my place, and getting my job back._

It was only two days later before she was at it again, easily luring a woman back into her apartment. This time was different though, because the woman was her _very_ straight co-worker Annie, and after leaving Annie in a daze on her bed after a simple make-out session – she knew for a fact that she was responsible for killing Linda. She also knew that there was something seriously wrong with her.

"Normal people can't do this shit…" Santana muttered to herself after making sure that Annie got home safely.

After the Annie incident, she quit her job _again_. She couldn't bear to be around Annie again after making the woman her test subject. The formerly _very_ straight homophobic woman had taken to Santana like glue, and kept flirting with her. Overall, it was just too awkward.

She got a new job - at her old employer's competing firm nonetheless - and made sure that she never tried to lure another co-worker. Instead, she took to going back to bars to pick up women. Her latest "encounters" always ended in at least a very heated make-out session, but more often than not she had taken to ending them with sex. She had promised that she would never move so fast again after her promiscuous high school days, but she couldn't help herself. She _needed _it, as she deduced that the energy (or life-force) she got from the encounters was necessary for her to properly function. A few women were left nearly dead in the process, which Santana considered a check in the win category. After all, they weren't actually _dead-dead_. She didn't care to acknowledge that most of the women tended to die after she dropped them back off at their homes, the causes of death all labeled as various conditions, including heart disease, SADS, aneurysms and more.

After about two months at her new employer, Santana reluctantly returned to the bar that she had met Linda at when all of her co-workers insisted that she go to a small get-together in celebration of the tough case they had all helped to win. Carl, a middle-aged man with a good amount of youthful vigor left in him pawned off the latest round of drinks on the Latina. She was waiting her turn up at the crowded bar table - planning to put the entire round of top-shelf liquor on Carl's tab in retaliation - when in a strange twist of events, a woman ended up approaching _her_ and asking if she wanted to "get out of here." It wasn't the best pick-up line that Santana had heard, but she wasn't going to argue with the woman. After all, with her stylish leather jacket, pulled back dark hair, fierce look in her eye, and nice-sized breasts she was someone that Santana would have definitely ended up luring anyway.

The woman mentioned that her place was being renovated, so Santana offered up her own apartment with no hesitation. Before the Latina knew it, she and the mystery woman were naked in her bed, making-out while tangled in a mess of sheets. Then she felt a sort of tug and noticed that the woman was doing what she normally did to others, _she was draining her energy._ Santana didn't try to stop her, instead finding a bit of joy in the fact that she was in the midst of someone like herself. After a while, she decided in was time to turn the tables, and she started to drain mystery woman's energy – which caused the dark-haired beauty to break away in surprise.

"You're a…" The woman started as lept out of bed, pulling the sheets with her. "Fuck."

Santana chuckled, her eyes conveying a decent amount of cockiness. "Surprised?"

"You could say that." The woman commented, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're a dark Fae, aren't you?"

"A what?" Santana replied, dropping the cockiness. "What did you just say that I am?"

"You really have no clue." The woman replied, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Would I be this fucking confused if I did?" Santana retorted, her anxiety rising. She was no longer filled with joy at the prospect of being the midst of someone like her…she was a little bit afraid. This stranger obviously knew more about herself than she did, and the prospective information that she could find out honestly scared her.

"I'm sorry if I upset you." The mystery woman's expression softened as she sat on the edge of the bed and laid a comforting hand on Santana's thigh. "This is fairly new to you, isn't it?"

Santana's mind started racing, and everything became clear. "High school," she said to herself, catching the woman give her a curious look as a result. "I guess it started in high school. I always could get guys to do whatever I wanted. But I never really noticed it until about a year ago, that's when…" Santana trailed off, the memory of her first kill becoming too much.

"…they started dying." The woman continued, filling in the blanks. "It still happens to me sometimes, but I've learned to mostly control it after finding out what I really am."

"And what are…we? You said Fae about a minute ago, but I'm willing to bet that's something like a general term."

"Succubus." The woman said with a smile. "We're succubae."

"Well, fellow succubus. The name's Santana." Santana offered her hand.

"Bo." The woman replied, shaking the slightly younger woman's hand.

Santana smiled, far more at ease than she was when the conversation began. "Well, Bo. We could always finish what we started. Maybe you can tell me more about…Fae, Succubuses, whatever, over breakfast. I make a mean omelet."

Bo simply resumed her former position on top of Santana and started where she left off. "Sounds good to me."

Suddenly, Santana Lopez no longer felt alone.

**I think I caught all major grammar errors and spelling mistakes, but don't be afraid to point out any stragglers. Also, if you want this to become a multi-chapter fic, say so in a review. For now it's a one-shot, but I will gladly continue if enough people want me to.**


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